


Snow

by imagineagreatadventure



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Law School, Prompt Fill, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-25 23:31:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18711910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagineagreatadventure/pseuds/imagineagreatadventure
Summary: Brienne wondered why she drifted towards men who were more beautiful than practically any woman. Why did she like being friends with them? Why did she like them? Was she a masochist?Watching Jaime almost trip on the icy sidewalk as he hopped up the stairs to the building, she sighed. She certainly was one.~a story in which Jaime and Brienne are trapped together during a snowstorm





	Snow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ssstrychnine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssstrychnine/gifts).



> So I wrote this ages ago on Tumblr (was prompted by the lovely ssstrychnine at the time with "j/b in snow :3") and always meant to put it up here and always somehow forgot to do it until earlier this week when I was perusing a lot of old prompt fills and noticed this one. 
> 
> This is a one-shot, I will not be continuing it (nor did I edit it very much upon re-finding it whoops) but I hope you enjoy it all the same. 
> 
> And that tomorrow night we are blessed with some more (delightful!!!!) JxB scenes :)

When the first snowflake fell, Brienne wondered if it was truly the end now. 

The end of having a regular class schedule anyways.

“Brienne,” Jaime cried out, a few paces ahead of her, “Come on, haven’t you seen snow before?”

Jaime’s smile was almost catching, but she forced herself to keep a straight face and just shook her head at him, unwilling to admit that the way the snow fell onto her face and melted into water fascinated her.

She had seen snow before, but the last time she was but a small girl with two living parents, years and years ago.

Jaime caught up to her, annoyance creasing his handsome face as she stared up at the grey sky, watching the snow fall. “Why are you so fascinated?” he asked impatiently. “You’re going to make us late.”

Brienne glared at him, but marched forward, brushing off the left hand he attempted to place on her shoulder. “We’re not going to be late,” she informed him, trying to ignore the drift of snowflakes in her line of sight.

She felt like she was watching ballerinas swirl around in their puffy white tutus — each snowflake danced to the ground rather than fell.

Jaime didn’t seem to notice the magic of it all, which didn’t surprise Brienne. He was a jerk who didn’t notice anything but his own reflection in the mirror.

But still… she liked him anyhow.

She seemed to fall for men who loved themselves quite dearly — it only took one look at her high school yearbook to remember how she placed hearts near Renly Baratheon’s picture. Renly had been handsome, nearly as handsome and attractive as Jaime, and he knew it very well.

So did his boyfriend, who aspired to be more beautiful than them all.

Brienne wondered why she drifted towards men who were more beautiful than practically any woman. Why did she like being friends with them? Why did she like  _them_? Was she a masochist?

Watching Jaime almost trip on the icy sidewalk as he hopped up the stairs to the building, she sighed. She certainly was one.

The door to the classroom was already closed and locked by the time she and Jaime reached the door. Professor Stark — Ned Stark, not Catelyn — was a stickler for rules and despised tardiness. While Professor Catelyn Stark would allow people in with a raised eyebrow, Ned Stark closed and locked the door as soon as class began.

“Fucking shit that fucking asshole,” Jaime swore, loud enough that it would have carried through the door. “We were literally two minutes late.”

“Jaime,” Brienne said, pulling his hand away from the door handle.

Jaime kicked the bottom of the weirwood door for good measure and cursed once more although Brienne couldn’t hear what he said.

“He’s such a dick,” Jaime said once they were back outside. The snow was falling heavily now, already coating the grass with a layer of white fluff.

“Let’s just go do something else,” Brienne said, trying not to reveal her own irritation. Ned Stark’s rules were grating even to her and she *liked* rules.

Jaime huffed. Brienne could see his breath… it was getting colder. “Fine, what do you suggest, wench?”

She rolled her eyes at his terrible nickname for her, which he came up with last semester (their first semester of law school). Something about some stupid book he was reading… Brienne never really understood it.

Nor did she understand why Jaime was even in law school. He seemed to hate every minute of it, grousing about this and that, barely paying attention in class, although somehow having the best notes. Which is the only reason why they became friends — no one wanted them in their study groups — Brienne was too unlikable and Jaime was too… Jaime.

So they ended up together — stuck with one another for about every class.

And Brienne thought he had bought his way in — still was fairly sure he did despite his obvious intelligence — until he showed off his notes which were better than even her own.

They met every night at the 24-hour diner that was right between both their apartments and it was the place that Brienne suggested now, eager to escape the falling snow.

“Another letter is turned off now,” Jaime remarked to her as they arrived.

Brienne looked up at the sign and frowned. The diner was falling apart… only one word was lit up now, just  **The** instead of  **The Wall**.

“I wonder if that cranky old badger will ever get this place fixed up,” Jaime muttered, pushing in the door.

Brienne saw herself in the mirrored walls and grimaced. She and Jaime were both red-faced and while this made Jaime look somehow more splendid than before — like a male model in a department store catalog — it just made Brienne look more masculine than she already looked. Plus ice was frozen in her hair, she had forgotten to wear a hat, while Jaime threw off his own winter hat, his golden hair flowing like a princesses’ in a storybook tale.

Jaime plastered himself onto a stool beside the bar. “Hot chocolate for the lady, and yes, believe it or not, she is a lady, don’t worry I checked,” Jaime winked at the waitress who was manning the bar. She clearly was not amused but took the order down in her paper pad.

“And you?” the redhead drawled, her northern accent stronger than even Ned Stark’s, to Jaime. “What do you want?” she asked Jaime.

“Why,” Jaime peered at the woman’s chest where a name-tag was displaced prominently, “Ygritte, I’d like your best tequila because I’m taking a gods damn shot.”

“Jaime it’s not even three o’clock in the afternoon,” Brienne admonished, taking the seat beside him. She hated sitting at the bar, she’d much prefer a booth but didn’t feel like arguing with Jaime over something so stupid.

“A shot of tequila and a hot chocolate,” the waitress Ygritte read out loud as if that wasn’t the strangest order in the world. “Be ready in ten.”

“It’ll take you ten minutes to do that?” Jaime asked, but Ygritte was already gone.

“Jaime, what is the matter with you?”

“Ned Stark is the matter with me, he fucking hates me, if it was just you missing, I bet he would have waited.” Jaime stopped and looked her over, making her insides shiver. “Or perhaps not, now that we’re close. But maybe you working with Catelyn overrides that I don’t know how his fucking asshole mind works.”

“He’s not an asshole. He told us what would happen if we ever late on the very first day.”

“Still an asshole.”

Brienne couldn’t take it any longer. “Perhaps you’re being an asshole!”

Jaime opened his mouth to argue but was interrupted by Ygritte. “Bottoms up,” she said, handing them both their drinks. “And if you want any food later, just yell.”

Jaime knocked back his shot before Ygritte had even left. Brienne stared him down, trying to channel how Septa Roelle would stare at Brienne back in primary school anytime she suspected Brienne of wrongdoing. Not that Brienne had ever done anything wrong as a child… or even now.

“Don’t glare at me, I’m over the age, have been for years. This is just good alcohol from the lovely Summer Islands,” Jaime said, his handsome face marred by his grimace.

Brienne only sipped her hot chocolate in response.

Jaime laughed. “You have whipped cream all over your face. You have your very own mustache. Looks better than anything I tried to grow.”

“I doubt that’s true,” Brienne muttered, before wiping off the whipped cream. She avoided looking at the mirror and took another sip, carefully this time.

“Stop being so… you.”

“What does that mean?” she bristled.

“Complain with me!” he said, his eyes bearing into her. “Stop defending our gods-damned professor and just bitch about the unfairness.”

“But it’s not unfair, not really.”

Jaime groaned and placed his head in his hands. “You’re much too good,” she thought he said but wasn’t entirely sure.

“What?” Brienne asked, for clarification.

“Never mind,” Jaime replied, pushing himself off. “Do you want any food? I’m buying.”

Brienne shook her head. He always did this. “No, I’m not hungry.”

Jaime looked at her dubiously. “Are you sure?”

Brienne looked at her reflection in the mirrored walls again and sighed. “Yes, I’m sure. I’m going to go home after I finish this. Especially if it keeps coming down like this.” The snowfall really was heavy.

“I suppose you think Professor Eddard Stark did us a favor then by kicking us out. Now we get home before drowning in snow.”

“I hadn’t even thought about that,” she said truthfully, almost smiling at Jaime’s expression.

“Fine, then you go home, but I’m walking you there.”

“There’s no point in that,” Brienne protested but he shushed her, throwing down money on the counter.

“Finish your drink and let’s go before we really are swallowed up by the snow,” Jaime said. “I’ve never seen it come down this fast.”

“Aye,” Ygritte came out of nowhere, grabbing the money Jaime left fast as lightning. “It’s one of the worst storms I’ve seen in years.”

Jaime’s expression, which had been almost carefree suddenly looked tense. “Really?” he asked Ygritte.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad. I think we’re going to be closing up soon if we can get fuckin’ Mormont on the line. He’s such an asshole,” she swore. “Anyhow you two are the only ones in here other than me and Tormund if you hadn’t noticed.”

Brienne had not.

“And so honestly swig down that cheap ass drink of yours,” Ygritte told Brienne. “Because we may just kick you out in a minute.”

“Great business plan,” Jaime said dryly.

Ygritte glared. “Fuck business plans, I’m going to live.”

With those haunting words, Brienne swallowed down the rest of her hot chocolate, trying to ignore how it burned her tongue.

“That was… kind of impressive,” Jaime said, a strange smile overtaking his face.

Brienne didn’t know what to think of that. “Let’s just go,” she said, trying to ignore how numb her mouth felt now.

“So can I just crash on your couch then?” Jaime asked her while they trudged through the snow. It was already almost two feet deep and showed no signs of slowing down. The neighborhood

“You might not need to stay the night,” Brienne replied, trying not to imagine Jaime Lannister in her bed in his boxers.

They’d be red boxers probably, he almost always wore red. Or perhaps they’d be green… because of his eyes.

Jaime looked up at the grey sky with a sharp scowl, wincing as a snowflake landed directly in his eye. Wiping it off, he said, “Oh yes I will.”

Brienne tried not to smile.

* * *

Jaime had never been inside her apartment before, she realized as she let him in. He had walked with her back home before, ignoring her protests that she could take care of herself, had shared a cab ride back with her, had picked her up before… but he had never been inside her apartment.

“This is nice,” he said, although she suspected he was lying. Brienne had been inside his apartment before. That was a nice apartment with wide windows, tall ceilings, crisp artwork featuring medieval knights, and the most beautiful furniture Brienne had ever seen. And there were two bedrooms although Jaime used the second room as a study for school, the walls packed with law books, DVDs, and video games.

Her little one bedroom was about the size of his living room and the nicest thing about it was the couch. It was the most comfortable couch in the world and it used to live at her house back home in Tarth but was now hers forever.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” she offered now, almost excited about the prospect. Sometimes she’d sleep on the couch even when she didn’t need to — it was that cozy.

Jaime scoffed. “We can just sleep in the same bed together. It’s not a big deal.”

Brienne must have twitched because he smirked. “Or perhaps it is for Brienne the Virgin.”

“Shut up,” she hissed, putting down her backpack and taking off her winter things, excluding her snow pants which she planned to take off. Jaime watched her do so. “Hand me your stuff so I can put it all in the closet,” she said, tired of his gaze.

He nodded and slowly, so slow it made Brienne ache, took off his winter coat and his hat and then he removed his snow pants. Ice flicked off the pants onto the carpet — Brienne made herself stare at that rather than Jaime.

“You can do that in the bathroom,” she quickly said.

Jaime looked up at her and grinned. “I’m wearing jeans underneath.” With a quick yank, this was revealed to be true, although it didn’t stop Brienne’s face from turning bright red. She quickly busied herself with putting everything away in her shitty hall closet (hanging up the coats on hangers, placing the hats on hooks) when suddenly Jaime was beside her, handing her his snow pants.

“Thanks,” she muttered until he started pulling at her own pants.

“What are you doing?” Brienne demanded, pushing Jaime away. He almost stumbled but caught himself.

“Helping you take off your snow pants.”

“I was going to do that in the bathroom!”

“Just do it here,” Jaime smirked. “Not like anyone will mind, wench. It’s just you and me.”

She resisted kicking him out into the cold snow. “I was going to do that to avoid ice on the carpet.”

A flicker of embarrassment crossed Jaime’s features but it disappeared as fast as it came. “I already made a mess, might as well make… a bigger one.”

His fingers were pulling at the waistline of her snow pants now, the edges of his fingertips touching her hip. Brienne inhaled sharply at the touch and tried not to look at him, caught between the closet and Jaime.

“Brienne,” he breathed and that was enough to wake her up.

“Move!” she barked at him, pushing past him to enter the bathroom. “Go watch TV or something.”

Brienne heard a strangled laugh as she slammed the door, trying not to have a panic attack. She instead stared into the mirror, watching her face turn blotchier as it reacted to the heat of her apartment and the touch of Jaime Lannister.

Why did he tease her like this? She had told him what those idiots had done back in undergrad, one evening last semester when they both had too much to drink, why would he do this?

She almost wanted to hop in the shower to drive away any thoughts of Jaime. Like she had done that time he kissed her cheek after they passed all their classes with flying colors. Like she had done last week when he dragged her out dancing. They hadn’t even touched but still just being around him in such an environment awoke her senses.

But jumping into a cold shower now would only remind her that he was right beyond that door. That he could come in and —

“Brienne?” Jaime’s voice carried over as he knocked. “Are you done taking off your pants yet?”

Brienne tried not to scream in frustration. “No,” she said instead, avoiding her reflection in the mirror. Now that Jaime reminded her of the real reason she was in the bathroom, she removed her snow pants, hanging them up above her shower curtain. The leggings underneath were damp and Brienne suddenly realized that she would have to change.

“Wench, you alive in there?” Jaime asked, knocking again.

She tore open the door, his face was right in hers, his green eyes looking up into hers. “I’m going to change.”

Jaime didn’t move, his body blocking the doorway. “Why? You look almost rather nice,” he said.

Brienne stared down at him. “My leggings are wet.”

“From what?” he asked, almost leering.

“Are you twelve?” she snapped. She could push past him again, but she had already done it once and it was sort of rude.

_Although so was standing in the way of someone who wanted to move past you._

“Maybe I am,” Jaime smirked and moved closer to her, making Brienne back up. If he didn’t stop she’d fall onto the toilet. “But did you give me an opening.”

Brienne kept quiet, not eager to give him another opening to mock and tease her.

He sighed and suddenly moved aside, his breath no longer kissing her cheek, “Sorry, go ahead and change, I have to piss anyway.”

“Classy,” Brienne remarked, both relieved and disappointed. She quickly went into her bedroom and changed into sweatpants and a sweatshirt, almost crawling into bed to hide before remembering that she still had to deal with Jaime’s sleeping arrangements for the night.

Jaime didn’t forget though, as he followed her into the room only a few minutes after she left him. When she threw him a questioning look, he only shrugged. “I pee fast.”

“Thanks for telling me that.”

“You’re welcome, wench,” he said cheerily, falling onto the bed. “So are you sleeping in here with me later tonight?”

Brienne ignored his comment. “Let’s just watch TV while the power lasts.”

“You think the power will go out? And I thought you were inexperienced with snowstorms!” Jaime winked at her. “Anyway, got any more sweats?”

* * *

Within only a few hours, Brienne couldn’t even see the street outside. The snow had covered everything, the cars, the sidewalk, the street — and now the ice was starting to cover her window. 

She was suddenly very grateful that Jaime was there. She’d feel quite alone and forsaken if she was in her apartment by herself with this weather, especially with how dark the sky had become.

Even if he was annoying her.

After trying on almost every combination of sweatpants and sweatsuits, twirling around in each set like he was a supermodel on a catwalk, Jaime settled into her old high school track sweatshirt which bore the word  **Tarth**  prominently in blue and the ratty sweatpants she always wore when she did the laundry.  He laid on the couch, encroaching on her space, his legs attempting to move on top of hers every few minutes until she pushed him off.

“Brienne, come on, you have to love this show, it’s got that noble kind of character you like! The idiotic kind that does things for the good of the world even though it will get them killed.” Jaime said, a piece of popcorn flying out of his mouth in his enthusiasm. “Whoops, sorry.”

“Because it’s shitty writing,” Brienne said, not in the mood to banter. She couldn’t think straight when he was placing his legs on hers every few minutes, feeling the press of his calves, the curve of his muscles.

Soon she wouldn’t be able to push him off. She wouldn’t be able to resist the feeling of someone else touching her.

He didn’t place his legs on hers this time, instead, he moved so he could put an arm around her. She stiffened, but he pretended not to notice… or perhaps truly didn’t notice. This was Jaime after all.

“Why are you so grumpy today? You were so happy earlier when the snow first started falling and now you look miserable despite being with me.”

“Because you just make everyone feel like a ball of joy,” Brienne grumbled, ignoring the way his fingers were curling around her shoulder.

“Well,  _you_  usually laugh, wench. But not today… or yesterday… actually, you’ve been acting weird for weeks.” Jaime pulled away from her and pinched her cheeks.

“By the Seven, Jaime,” Brienne managed to say.

“Did you do poorly on a test?” he demanded. “Is your Dad sick? Are you sick? Do you have a crush on some idiot again?”

She wanted to laugh and cry all at once which must’ve shown in her face because Jaime said, “Oh gods you are in love with some idiot again.” He released her cheeks and sighed. “Oh, wench, who is it this time?”

“No, I don’t like anyone,” she huffed, wishing it was true.

“Is it Hyle Hunt?”

“No!” Brienne was outraged. “He bet he could sleep with me why would I like him?”

Jaime grabbed the remote and muted the TV while he responded. “I don’t know you seem to like egotistical assholes.”

A choking laugh escaped her. “Fine, I do have a type.”

Jaime stared at her. “So you do like someone!”

“No!”

“Yes, you do,” he said, although he didn’t sound as triumphant as he had when he was spitballing theories at her. In fact, Brienne noticed with bewilderment, he almost sounded sad.

But that was ridiculous.

“Why else would you be so grumpy and mopey?” Jaime asked. “Unless…” a smile crept onto his face.

“Unless what?” Brienne demanded.

He leaned in so close Brienne could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes. “Unless you’re just horny,” he  _purred._

“Jaime,” she tried saying but it was hard to say anything when her brain was freezing and her limbs were melting.

“You’re red everywhere right now, which makes me think I’m right,” he said, somehow managing to get closer to her. He was leaning over her, their chests almost touching, his nose only millimeters away from hers. Without meaning to, Brienne closed her eyes. She could feel his breath and his heartbeat.

“Brienne, I’m sorry,” Jaime said. She could feel his retreat and opened her eyes just in time to see him turn up the volume on the TV again.

“For what?” she asked.

“Being an ass.”

“I forgive you for that every time you talk,” Brienne said and he laughed.

“I wish you had alcohol here,” Jaime said. “Then maybe you’d actually tell me what was wrong.”

Brienne shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Jaime’s gaze was swallowing her whole. “Oh fuck it,” he suddenly said before flinging himself over on top of her.

His mouth was on hers before she could even realize what was happening, his hand up her sweatshirt dancing over each rib.

Brienne didn’t know what to do at first - if she should kiss him back or push him off, and soon she didn’t have to decide because Jaime got off her. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he said, looking upset.

Brienne was about to say that it was all right, that it was more than all right when she noticed the front of his —  _her_ — sweatpants were tented.

He wanted her.

This was as frightening as it was exciting.

No one had ever wanted her.

Brienne couldn’t speak. She was too shocked and flattered and afraid.

“I’ll leave,” Jaime said at her silence, “I should leave.”

“No!” Brienne said, forcing herself up. Nose to nose to him once again. “Stop, I’m sorry I was just…”

“Horrified?” he asked, looking away.

“Surprised,” she corrected with a blush.

He twirled his head back to her, “What kind of surprised?”

Brienne hesitated telling him the truth. What is this was just another trap? Another joke?  _Brienne the Beauty_ haunted her still.

Yet, she couldn’t lie to Jaime. He was  _Jaime_. The idiot who saved her ass in their study group — the moron who punched Ronnet in the face for making her cry.

_The man who wanted her._

“The good kind of surprised,” she confessed, feeling almost giddy as he looked at her in wonder.

This time, she got to be the one to kiss  _him._


End file.
